Saturday, March 21, 2015

Carolyn Locke: "What the Rain Left Behind"

All night rain falls from the black above
in thick ropes, a torrential blessing

we've forgotten to ask for. It drums
on every roof and window closed tight

against its fury, gushes in roadside gullies,
sluices pavement. And when it's over,

spider webs glitter in the field—a patchwork
of silver-green. Snail paths cross a sheen

of mud, and great washes of gravel spill
over the road in a swirling collage of sticks,

leaves, and pine needle dams—some broken,
others holding firm. Everywhere, puddles

mirror light's return, carry the memory
of rainbows pulling us all to the windows,

the house a weighted ship listing to starboard,
the lip of its hull sipping holy water.

"What the Rain Left Behind" by Carolyn Locke, from The Place We Become (forthcoming from Maine Authors Publishing, Spring, 2015). Presented here by poet submission.

Art credit: Untitled photograph of the veil of webs left behind by money spiders escaping a flood in East Sussex, England, by Ross Lawford/BNPS.


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